Untamed Heart
by slyprentice
Summary: When the son of a billionaire takes an interest in a local town boy, will their relationship be doomed to fail even before it's begun? Non-magic AU. Draco/Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Untamed Heart  
**Author**: Prentice  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Category**: AU; Non-magic.  
**Rating**: FRAO  
**Feedback**: Cherished.  
**Disclaimer**: J.K.Rowling. That is all.  
**Author's Note**: Yes, this story is being updated again. Once I have it fully updated on here, new chapters will be posted. 

**Summary**: When the son of a billionaire take an interest in a local town boy, will their relationship be doomed to fail even before it begins?

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**Chapter 1**

Draco Malfoy had never been a patient young man. He wasn't brought up to be patient. He was brought up to be a Malfoy, plain and simple. So when the mechanic at the local garage told him it would take at least two days to fix his broken down Mustang GT, he was furious.

"Goddamn hicks." Draco muttered disgustedly as he stepped out into the oppressive midday heat.

Though it was barely the middle of March, a stifling heat wave had set in on most of Hogsmeade and it's surrounding areas. Much to the displeasure of young Malfoy Jr. Having spent most of his young life traveling across Europe with his mother and father, Draco was used to most any weather the world could throw at him but he none-the-less despised the heat.

It always made him get nasty red blotches on his cheeks and his hair lay limply against his face, making the hour he spent every morning styling it go down the drain. Which only served to irritate him further. A Malfoy was meant to look distinguished, not like a sweating pig. Leave that to the locals.

"Damn hicks." Draco muttered again, squinting behind his designer sunglasses to try to look around the small town he was now stuck in.

That morning when Draco had left his family manor to try to catch his father between business meeting, he hadn't counted on having to think about, much less stop in, this joke of a town. In fact, if his car hadn't started acting up half-way through the trip, he probably wouldn't even know the town existed. The blonde rarely paid any attention to the scenery and to actually take note of a local town was almost an impossible thing.

A town like this was just another dot on the map between Malfoy Manor and the Metropolis that was known as Hogsmeade.

"If you're looking for somewhere to go, you might want to try the Leaky Cauldron, mister. It's just right over there."

Draco scowled, resisting the urge to flip the pointing mechanic the finger. "Aren't you supposed to be working on my car?"

"I told you, I can't fix it until--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time." The blonde cut in, waving the man's comment away.

What good was having a mechanic in the middle of god damn nowhere if he couldn't fix the bloody things?

'_I should feel lucky. At least he can call the damn part in.'_ He thought sourly.

The last thing he wanted or needed was to stay in this town for longer than necessary. He had places to be and things to do. He was counting on talking to his father before the man flew to America in the morning to close on a business deal.

Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, Draco turned back to face the man, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the over powering stench, of what Draco could only guess was, oil hanging over him.

"There a pay phone around here?" He asked impatiently. Maybe if he called his father's secretary, Juliann, he would be able to get her to send a tow truck and company car to pick him up. That empty-headed bitch had been panting after him since the day she took the job for his father, even going so far as to hike up her skirt when they were in the same room so Draco could get a good look at the lacy panties she wore. To bad she was about as good looking as a dead cat but she served her purpose. And anyway, it would thrill her to pieces just to be able to do one simple thing for him. Even if it didn't involve her legs in the air.

"No. No pay phones but like I said, you might want to try the Leaky Cauldron. The bartender Tom will probably let you use his phone." The man said before turning and disappearing back into the shadows of the tiny little garage.

Draco's scowl deepened.

'_Fucking small-town asshole.' _He hissed irritably to himself as he turned to look back around the town. There wasn't much to it. For his standards anyway.

Most of the town, as far as he could tell, was made up of town-owned stores and "brothels". Among them, he could see plainly, the Leaky Cauldron which looked to be a particular favorite to the locals, if the number of people who came and went was any indication.

'_Might as well get it over with.'_ He thought, stepping off the small curb and making his way across the street, not even bothering to check for cross traffic. _'Traffic? In this town? Yeah, right.'_ Draco snorted.

He doubted this town got any traffic from the locals much less from someone passing through. He wouldn't have even been passing through if it wasn't for the fact that this was the quickest route to where he needed to be. Most people stuck to the more traveled highway instead of these back roads, even if it did add an extra hour to your trip.

But even as he took the few final steps to the other side of the road, the rickety sound of an old truck filled his ears, making him cast a cursory glance over his shoulder. Just on the horizon, an old beat up pick-up truck came careening down the road. It's grinding gears rattling noisily.

'_Probably another good ol' boy .' _Draco thought unable to keep a grimace from creasing his lips. A true-blue country bumpkin was the last thing he needed. He'd had his fill for one day.

Stepping into the shade with a sigh, Draco watched as the truck came to a groaning halt a few meters away from him. It's engine died with cough. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead while he watched behind the tint of his glasses as the passenger side door swung open with a creak.

"Are you happy, Ron?! You could have killed us!" A girl screeched from inside the cab moments before she slipped out.

Draco's nose wrinkled. She wasn't much too look at. A country girl through and through if the overalls and bushy braided pig tails were any indication.

'_No wonder I stick to city life.'_ He thought as his eyes drifted over to the driver's side door that had just swung open.

The young Malfoy couldn't help but snicker when he saw the young man who got out. A red haired, freckled faced boy whom had a dirt smudge of the side of his nose was sliding out from behind the steering wheel. The red haired boy's face with flushed with sweat, making his freckles stand out even further.

'_And here's the good ol' boy.'_ Draco thought bemused even as he was slightly disgusted with the boy's attire: jeans bleached practically white from the sun with grass stains on the knees and a white tee shirt that would have looked fairly new if it wasn't for a small hole near the bottom. The outfit was enough to make Draco thankful for the hours his mother spent drilling into him fashion tips when he was younger.

"Don't be dramatic, 'Moine." The red haired boy, which Draco could only assume was Ron, said. Unable to stop himself, Draco turned his eyes back to the girl to see what her response would be, morbidly fascinated at the scene before him. It wasn't often that he saw normal everyday people going about with the lives. Years spent under his father's tutelage had jaded him 

into seeing cool, aloft and collected individuals that would just as soon stab you in the back as they would shake your hand. He didn't much see anyone else.

But before Draco's eyes could make it back to the girl, his eyes stopped dead.

"Bloody hell." He breathed.

There, just in the bed of the truck, was a second young man who was now handing the girl a package. Lean tan arms easily maneuvered the box into the girl's grasp, not letting go until he was sure the girl had a hold on it before falling back to his sides. Long fingers wiped against denim.

Draco licked his lips, the saltiness of his own sweat barely registering as he took a step forward. His own fingers rubbed against the soft khaki of his pants.

The boy was gorgeous. Shaggy hair the color of night shinned under the sun's stifling beams, making a small halo shine above the boy's head. Perfectly round glasses encased a flawlessly smooth face that was flushed with the heat. A light sheen of sweat could be seen glowing on the boy's skin. The boy's lithe body was incased in soft jeans that were faded but not bleached accompanied with a worn tee shirt that had the logo for PLATFORM 9 ¾ , the hottest club in Diagon Alley.

'_Boy's got some class…'_ Draco mused lamely as he watched the boy jump smoothly over the side of the truck-bed wall and land easily on the pavement. '_Wonder what his name is…'_

"Well c'mon then. Don't just stand there all day." The girl snapped, handing the package she was holding over to the red-headed boy before turning on her heels and walking towards a store across the street. Belatedly, Draco realized it was an herbal shop, or at least, that's what it looked like. He couldn't be sure. Despite this being a small town, there could be one or two places around the that weren't what they appeared to be. Which was usually the case, in Draco's opinion.

Draco fought down a shudder, the feeling of someone staring at him assailing his senses. There was only one person it could be...

Draco's eyes to snapped back. Through the tint of his glasses, his eyes locked with the raven haired boy's own.

He gasped.

Those eyes. Perfectly emerald and so deep he felt as though he could fall into them forever. They burned into him with such intensity; he felt his insides flutter with appreciation. Without thought, Draco was taking a step back out into the sunlight and had taken two more before he could stop himself.

He swallowed thickly, looking away but not before he saw the ghost of a smile grace the other boy's lips. Sweet Merlin, what had gotten into him? His eyes flicked back for a second, the boy's lips were still curled into a small smile.

'_Oh god, those lips…' _He moaned silently to himself. Red as crushed cherries and supple as silk.

"Harry? You coming, mate?"

Draco fought down the urge to snarl at the red-haired boy for interrupting. He had just begun to fantasize about all the delicious ways he could bruise those pretty lips; make them open wide as the boy screamed his name. He shuddered. Fuck.

Curling his fingers against his sides, Draco let his eyes shift back to the other boy, watching for a strained moment as their gazes met. But just as quickly as they did, the boy's eyes shifted away from him. Draco wanted to scream in despair. Those eyes needed to be on him, not that damn red head.

But, before Draco could muster it inside himself, those eyes were back on him, jade with curiosity.

The boy's smile grew slightly.

Draco took another step forward, making sure to make the movement as graceful as possible.

'_Harry. His name's Harry.'_ Draco thought, delighting in the way the other boy's eyes tracked his movements. Bone deep pleasure shot through the blonde as he saw the tiny smile on the boy's lips grow further still.

Unable, or unwilling, to stop himself, Draco took another step forward, stopping himself short as the other boy spoke for the first time.

"No. No, I don't think I will. I'll meet you both in the Cauldron." He said, eyes never wavering from Draco's own. His voice was as sweet as honey.

"Oh, okay. See you there." Ron said, completely missing the tension that was starting to thicken the air as he turned and hurried to catch up with the girl. She was already waiting somewhat impatiently for him at the door of the store.

Another bead of sweat slide down the back of Draco's neck as he stared at the other boy. He watched in hazed fascination as the boy licked his chapped lips unconsciously before he cast one last look at his friend's, whom were now disappearing into the coolness of the shop.

'_Please'_ Draco thought _'Please just get your ass over here and talk to me.'_

And then the boy was, moving towards Draco with a determined look on his face and a glint in his eyes that made Draco want to give a 'whoop' of delight.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the lovely reviews! :)

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**Chapter 2**

When Harry had accepted the invitation to go to town with the two of his closest friends, he hadn't expected anything interesting to happen. After all, this was just Little Whinging, the dullest town on the map. The most exciting thing that had happened in this town since as far as Harry could remember was when one of the locals went to Hogsmeade for a vacation or--and this hadn't happened since Ron's older brother Bill had come to visit last time--someone actually got to _see _Diagon Alley.

Which was something that rarely, if ever, happened for anyone in this town. To even been seen near Diagon Alley, you had to have a certain amount of money and a hell of a lot of style. Not that Ron's brother Bill had either, but he did work for Gringotts, the largest bank chain in the area so he was easily able to see the place from time to time.

It was a full-town event whenever Bill came to visit, as sad as that sounded. And that was even discounting when Ron's other brother Charlie came to visit...Harry still couldn't remember everything he had done that night and the party had been nearly a year ago.

'_Oh well. It's probably for the best.'_He consoled himself, watching the scenery roll by. It wasn't much to look at, just an occasional tree and a whole hell of a lot of farm land. It was most definitely dull but, at the very least, it was home. _'At least I'm not living with my relatives anymore.'_

A shudder ran through Harry at the thought. He'd only been a year old when he had moved in with his relatives after his parents had died in a 'supposed' car crash. Living with his aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon, and annoying older cousin Dudley had been a practice in self control and anger management. Every day, each one of them pushed Harry to his limit till he was sure he was going to snap and just punch one of them in their face. That is, until he'd become best friend's with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Ron had lived in the town for most of his life. He was part of one of the families whose ancestry, amazingly, almost lead back to the very founding of the town. Everyone knew his name and everyone was his friend. The few people who weren't really close friends with him, thought of him as their little brother since, in fact, he had five older brothers and one little sister. Harry and Ron had been friends for years despite Harry not being allowed out that much by his relatives.

Then there was Hermione, whom had moved to the town just a short while ago with her parents, the resident dentists of the town. She was unlike anyone Ron and Harry had met over the years, which was probably why his friend was so in love with her though he denied it. She had moved from Hogsmeade to Little Whinging when her parents had decided that city life just wasn't the right place to raise a growing girl and despite the extreme change, Hermione had taken to small town living like a duck to water.

Which was why, Harry supposed, he owed both of them such a great deal. Less than a year ago when things were just beginning to truly begin to become horrible in his relatives household for him, Harry had been able to, with Ron and Hermione's help, save enough money to move out of 

his relatives house , which was a blessing in a blessing since they had "unexpectedly" decided to move two days later, into a semi-cheap flat but also helped him wrangle a part time job at The Leaky Cauldron.

Being a part time dish washer and bus boy wasn't glamorous in any sense of the word but it kept the rent paid and the groceries stocked, which was more than he could say for some of the other jobs he'd had over the years.

'_Yeah. Like Uncle Vernon said " the world needs ditch-diggers too, boy"_Harry thought disgustedly.

At seventeen years old, Harry was hardly a world famous movie-star but he still liked to think of himself a little higher up the food chain than a ditch digger. Not that there was anything wrong with that particular profession but--

'_I want something more than that.'_ Harry mused, bracing himself against the side of the truck as it dipped into yet another pot-hole along the worn road.

What the 'more' Harry wanted was, he couldn't say, but whatever it was, he could sure in the hell guarantee it was more than what his relatives thought he would get. It was more than what most people thought he could get. Despite being well liked around the small town of Little Whinging, he had more than a few friends, young and old alike; Harry knew that the town viewed him as a fixture.

Someone who would never leave the clutches of open farm land; someone who would always be there if they needed a helping hand. But Harry couldn't help but feel that there was something more out there for him. Something greater than the back room of The Cauldron and his musty old apartment above it.

A sigh escaped the boy's lips. There wasn't a use in dwelling on those depressing thoughts right now. They would do him no good here. He'd just have to make sure that life changed when he had gathered enough money to do it or when the opportunity presented itself.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder to see where, Harry placed one hand on top of the package that Ron was trying his best to make fly out of the bed of the truck. Inside, Harry knew was a care package from Ron's mother, Molly, to Regina Sprout, the local herbalist and one of Hermione's hero. Apparently, poor Regina had come down with a nasty case of the flu but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that her unexpected close-up-shop-sick-week had more to do with the fact that Regina's old beau, Barty Crouch was in town visiting.

'_I don't understand what she sees in the old goat. He's just so smarmy.' _Harry thought, remembering the first time he had ever met the man. He had been minding the bar of the Cauldron for Tom, when old Barty had burst in three-sheets to the wed talking about needing a good drink or a good fight. Whichever came first.

Harry had had to tackle the old dodger just to get him stop throwing punches in the air at anybody who passed by him.

'_I wonder how Mrs. Figg's eye is doing…'_Harry thought distractedly as he felt the truck suddenly begin to accelerate. That meant one of two things: either they were getting close to town or Ron had lost control of the truck -- again.

'_I really need to start driving us.'_ Harry thought wearily as he struggled to keep his glasses from slipping off his nose. Sometimes it seemed as though Ron expected the truck to just drive itself. _'I'd probably have fewer bruises if it did.'_

Not that Harry was one to talk since he had yet to receive his driver's license. You had to actually _know_ how to drive to get it, he had found out. And though Harry wasn't above asking for some lesson from Ron or Hermione's parents, he wasn't too keen on the idea of having to explain to the local uppity transportation officials why he was getting a license but had no car.

As it were, however, Harry had found that he was able to hitch a ride easily enough from one of the locals or just take the sickle-bus, as it was deemed by Ron, since the driver insisted that Harry only pay a sickle a ride since he used it so much, to where he needed to go. Which wasn't very far since most of what the town had to offer was concentrated in one single area.

For most of the town citizens, that was okay. But to Harry, it was a nightmare.

'_Same shit, different day.'_ He mourned silently, gripping the side of the truck. Everyone who lived in the town had long past given up on something interesting happening and the quiet living suited them better. After the war was over, people around Little Whinging glorified in the mundane and simple. It was the nature of the beast, Harry supposed. Small towns weren't exactly known a wild pits of sin and debauchery. Not that **that** was what Harry was looking for but it would be nice to have something to do besides going to hang out at the Cauldron, the place he worked, on a Friday evening.

"Oi! Harry! Hold on!" Ron's voice bellowed from inside the cab of the truck.

Harry grimaced, curling his fingers tighter against the side of the truck and bracing his feet against the bed. He couldn't help but let out a yelp as the truck gave a large jerk, slamming his shoulder painfully against the side of the truck. Moments later, familiar buildings came into his view: The Leaky Cauldron, Sprout's Herbal Shop, the all-night grocer, and a few other small town necessities.

'_Just enough to make sure you never have to leave this damn place.'_Harry mused, pressing his shoulder against the side of the truck to keep from getting another bruise. And it was true. Despite the fact that the town was small and out of the way, it had all the amenities that it needed for the citizens to survive.

A hiss of pain escaped Harry's lips as his head slammed back against the truck when it suddenly came to a somewhat screeching halt.

Harry blinked blearily, trying to shake the spots that were flashing in front his eyes away. Already he could hear Hermione chastising Ron for his driving. Some thing's never change. Every single time the three of them went to town, Hermione yelled at Ron but yet, she never asked to drive herself.

"Are you happy, Ron?! You could have killed us!" Hermione screeched, as she flung herself out the truck.

Harry rolled his eyes beneath his glasses. Hermione would really never change. She always said the same thing.

Turning his head so he could see Ron, Harry cracked a small smile when his friend threw him a 'why me?' look through the back window. Some things would **definitely** never change.

"Don't be so dramatic, 'Moine." The red-head replied, slipping out of the truck. Harry's smile slipped slightly as another sigh escaped his lips. It was so bloody hot now that the truck was stopped. He hadn't noticed before, he'd been too busy holding on for dear life.

Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, the boy pealed himself from the bed, running his hand through his wind swept hair, trying to no avail to tame it. With another sigh of irritation, he leaned down and grabbed the package.

"You don't think Ron's driving might have broken something in it, do you Harry?" Hermione asked, reaching her arms out to take the package from him.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

Waiting till he was sure that his friend had a good grip on the package, Harry wiping his fingers on his jeans before bracing a hand on the side and jumping over the side to land with a soft thump. He really didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of Hermione's yelling sprees if something was broke. He'd been at the end of one once, that had been more than enough.

"Well, come on then, don't just stand there all day." Hermione snapped, shoving the package into Ron's arms before hurrying off into the direction of Sprout's shop. Ron rolled his eyes again and began to follow. Harry shook his head, a smile tugging his lips. Those two already acted like a married couple and they weren't even dating. Yet.

Taking a deep breath of the hot dry air, Harry let his eyes roam over the town. So different but yet the same, day in and day out. It was a comfort and a hindrance for him. So many times he had dreamed of leaving this town and all it's many occupants behind; living the glamorous life on some shore side mansion, getting suits tailored in Madame Milkin's shop, cruising Diagon Alley with all the upper crust of society. Actually relaxing backstage in **Platform 9 ¾**while his band tuned up on stage waiting for him.

That was definitely what dreams were made of.

Abruptly, a scuffing noise to his right drew Harry's attention. Who would it be? Someone asking a favor or one of his friends just saying hi? But, it was neither.

Harry felt his mouth go dry and throat tight at what he found waiting for him: A young man, no more than a year older than himself stood watching his friend's retreating backs, just in the shade a few meters off.

'_He's definitely not from around here.'_ Harry considered, taking in the pressed designer button down shirt, rumbled khakis and delicate sunglasses the perched on the bridge of the boy's nose.

But the other man's clothes were only a side attraction to how badly he stood out in the town. The cool confidence and flutter of arrogance that hung over him like a second skin made his whole presence scream that he didn't belong here. The boy was like a ball of sparkling brightness in a town full of dirt mounds.

Forcing himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, Harry found the need to find out who this boy was, why he was here and, most importantly, how long he'd be staying made almost over powering. Without realizing it, the bespectacled boy began to take a step towards the alluring and breathtaking creature that had appeared in the town over night.

'_Just one look…just one…'_ Harry promised himself, taking a long delicious look at those ivory-cream features that were flushed red from the sun. It made Harry's stomach do an odd little somersault.

In spite of the fact that the sun was making Harry's skin burn and sweat like he was locked in a sauna, the other boy looked, for lack of a better term, cool. The soft skin of his cheeks had rosy tints that made Harry's chest flutter. The boy's blonde hair shimmered white in the sunlight and Harry could almost imagine how soft it would be. The boy's lips, that even from this distance looked delicate and soft, were held open in a small "O" as he gave short pants of breath in and out.

Harry shifted his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight as he continued his inspection. The boy's eyes were hidden behind the reflective glass off designer sun glasses but Harry would have bet his week's paycheck that they would be steely gray underneath. He wasn't sure why or how, but he just knew they would be.

Taking a shaky breath in, Harry tried to control the urge to run to the boy and just -- just--

'_Oh damn…'_ Harry thought as the other boy, as if in slow motion, felt Harry's eyes on him and turned to look. His breath caught in his throat.

This boy was -- exquisite with his tailored clothes, expensive sunglasses and alluring physique. He practically breathe wealth and power. Lots of it.

For what seemed to be an eternity, Harry held the boys gaze, his curiosity over riding all sense of politeness. This, **this** was exactly what Harry had always been waiting for. This boy who made fear and longing coil in his stomach almost to the point of making him dizzy.

And then, the other boy was moving, one step, two. He stopped, looking at Harry unsure. Purely on instinctive, a shy smile formed on Harry's lips. The moment it did, he was more than thankful. His smile seemed to make the other boy sway forward another step.

'_That's it. Just a few more steps…'_

"Harry? You coming, mate?"

Harry blinked, eyes flickering away to his friends and then back, his smile still firmly in place. That seemed to wrench another step out of the boy. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"No. No, I don't think I will. I'll meet you both at the Cauldron." He said, his eyes staying glued on the other boy's.

"Oh, okay. See you there." His friend said, moving off towards Hermione.

Harry hardly noticed, so intent was he on the blond. Minutes passed as he waited for the other boy to move but he didn't.

'_Guess it's my move…'_Harry deliberated. Taking a deep breath, the raven haired boy began to move towards the blond, heart pounding in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

For those who don't know, I've been reposting this story from another site and that site, apparently, completely butchered it; littering it with enough spelling and grammatical mistakes to fill a show box so please, if you see a mistake, rest assured, I will fix them.

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**Chapter 3**

As a Malfoy, Draco had found that nowadays very little could excite him. After all, when you had the world at your finger tips at any time of day, well, let's just say the glamour and glitz was taken out of it very rapidly. Not that he didn't still appreciate the fact that at any time, day or night, he could get what he wanted, whatever he wanted because… that's what being a Malfoy meant.

No one _**ever**_ refused you. **No one**.

Which was why Draco knew that this boy, with emerald eyes and cherry balm lips, was going to be his, one way or another. Harry was going to belong to him and him alone.

The blonde suppressed a shiver of anticipation as he watched the other boy move towards him, a natural liquid grace in his movements that Draco himself had never possessed. It was a grace that screamed that the boy was not only comfortable with himself but with the people around him. It was a grace that he couldn't help but wonder if he could make falter after one night of non-stop pleasure?

Draco felt his stomach clench. Merlin, he could almost feel those long legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into the boy. See the way the boy would scream his name and thrash beneath him as he came for the first of many times that night.

Fuck. Draco shifted, trying his best to subtly adjust himself in his khakis. He didn't want to scare this angel off even before he had the chance to speak to him. That's the last thing he wanted.

'_He's so beautiful'_ The blonde mused, eyes tracking the other boy's steps. _'How can something so beautiful be living__**here**__?'_

Draco didn't know. Didn't dare to think, as a matter of fact, because now the boy had stopped half a meter away and was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Almost as if he was waiting for Draco to tell him to go away. It wouldn't happen, not in a billion damn years.

'_Don't be afraid baby. Just open those beautiful lips and talk to me.'_ Draco encouraged mentally, lifting one hand casually to brush a strand of damp blonde hair from his forehead. Harry tracked his movements steadily, as if he were the prey watching the predator for any signs of an attack. Draco's stomach did another flip. If Harry was the kind of prey that Draco could catch, he'd be the predator every time.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face and down his jaw causing him to fight back a scowl as Harry's eyes followed the movement. God, why did it have to be so damn hot here? Sweat was probably pouring off of him in buckets and his hair felt plastered to his head.

Harry, on the other hand, just stood there, a luscious flush covering his golden tanned skin. Sweat glowing on his skin but not dripping like himself. He probably looked a mess.

'_Well there is nothing you can do about it now.'_He chided himself, watching the other boy shift nervously before stuffing both of his hands into the soft denim pockets of his blue jeans. Draco sighed. If only those where his hands…

Suddenly, the other boy cleared his throat, jerking the blonde out of his own thoughts. Harry flashed a shy smile. It was enough to make Draco feel a tingle of excited amusement run through him. This was it. The boy was going to speak…

"You lost?" Harry asked quietly, his voice carrying the short distance in but a whisper. Draco's stomach fluttered in delight. That voice…that god damn voice…

"Actually I was fixing to go to the Leaky Cauldron." He replied smoothly, years of learning how to be calm and collected coming to the forefront as he watched the boy's eyes flicker with surprise. "The mechanic told me there was a phone there…?" He explained, making his comment half statement and half question.

"Ah." The other boy murmured, his eyes flickering down to the walkway before he looked back to Draco with another small smile. "Afraid the natives bite, huh?"

A startled laugh bubbled out of Draco as he watched the other boy's eyes glitter with amusement as his mouth curled into a crooked smile. Merlin. Draco's mouth went dry.

'_God that mouth is going to be the death of me…'_

"You could say that." He chuckled, once again brushing a stray lock of hair from off his forehead. How he wished he had dressed differently today. Maybe in that brand new outfit Madame Milkin had designed for him just last week. Fuck that outfit made him look good. If only he had worn it today!

But how was he to know that he'd end up meeting such a beautiful creature like Harry? The few people he knew he would have ended up running in to, he didn't want to impress or dazzle. His father, for one, would probably approve of his outfit, if not a little begrudgingly since it wasn't one of the more risqué outfits he owned. His father's business partners wouldn't give a damn and Juliann...Hell, he could walk into the building wearing a trash bag and Juliann would probably throw herself on the desk, spread her legs and beg him.

Draco swallowed thickly, images of this sweet angel in front of him, spread out for him popping into his mind unbidden. Sweet Merlin, he really needed to get a hold of his libido. It was bad enough he was testing his own limits of his control but to do it in front of Harry...

"So…" The raven haired boy began, shuffling his feet somewhat nervously. Draco couldn't help but smile. He'd never had a lover who was shy before.

Oh sure, he'd had lovers who pretended to be coy and chaste but they had all been fake. He had known it and they had known that he knew it. Not that _that_had ever stopped him from taking them to bed with him. Blaise, for instance, was a perfect example of that.

A family friend for more years than Draco cared to admit, the boy all but threw himself at every wealthy man or woman who came his way. Draco included. And Draco, like so many others before him, had indulged Blaise by taking him into an alley way behind one of the clubs he frequented and screwing him before going back into the club to dance and sweat off the boy's stench.

Plus, taking all those different men and women into his bed had pissed off his father to no end. Which was one of the things that Draco prided himself on. His father was a half-way decent man when he wanted to be but he liked absolute control over everything and Draco wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction.

"So" Harry began, once again snapping Draco out of his thoughts as he took a hand from out of his pocket and brushed it through his hair. "Want some company to the Cauldron?"

Draco felt another, larger, smile curl his lips. "I'd love some." He said, watching as a blush crept up the boys face.

"Follow me." The boy murmured after a moment, turning and starting a leisurely walk towards the Leaky Cauldron. Draco couldn't help but let his eyes trail down the boys body. Oh yes, the boy would definitely be his.

'_I'll make sure of it.'_ He promised his self, taking in the almost feminine swing of the raven haired boy's hips. The jeans the boy wore rode low on his hips, giving the blonde a clear view of the caramel skin of Harry's back on every second step. Draco shuddered.

'_Bollocks. I can't believe I'm lusting after the boy's back.'_ He mused, hurrying to catch up as the other boy looked over his shoulder at him.

"Sorry. It's just so hot." Draco explained easily, once he was walking side by side with the other boy. Harry flashed him a relaxed smile and shrugged, muscles rippling beneath his skin with the small movement.

"It's always like this, this time of year. It's not so bad when you get used to it." He responded, pushing his glasses up his nose with his fingertips

Draco nodded. He knew how that was. With all the times his family had moved around he had had to get used to some of the strangest climates there was. From snow and ice every day to rain and humidity. But still, the heat here was scorching in a way he couldn't remember feeling before. It was so hot that the back of his legs burned with each step he took and the soles of his feet were uncomfortably warm. Perhaps, though, it was the company he was in that made his insides feel as if they were on fire.

"How long have you lived here?" The blonde found himself asking, blinking slightly in surprise. It had been years since he'd participated in anything remotely close to small talk that didn't revolve around him manipulating or seducing the other party into either telling what he wanted to know or ending up with a bed partner for the night. But, that wasn't what surprised him, what had was the fact that he truly was -- interested.

He wanted to get to know Harry. Draco's stomach clenched in apprehension. What the fuck was he thinking? Was he out of his mind? Hadn't he learned his lesson two years ago?

Draco shook his head. He didn't have time to think about that now. Glancing over, he noticed the tight look on the boy's face and back tracked in his mind, trying to decide if he'd said something again without realizing. He hadn't.

"You don't have to answer that if you--" He began but Harry blinked, shaking his head and smiled.

"No, no sorry. I was just thinking. I've lived here most of my life." Harry responded, again flashing a smile at Draco.

Draco stared for a moment, watching the way the boy tried to make light of the answer but there was no mistaking the bitterness that had tinted the last words.

'_I'm going to have to remember that.'_ The blonde thought, categorizing the moment to ask about later. Perhaps after he had made love with the boy for the first time. Draco froze, fear slamming into him as he stumbled a step before catching himself.

'_Made love? Hell! I hardly know him!'_ His mental voice warned panicked. But the Draco's eyes locked on the boy's hips again. The gentle back and forth swing of them and the smooth swish where the material of his shirt and jeans rubbed against the bronze skin.

'_Yes, made love.'_Another voice spoke up. _'That's the only way it will be with this boy. It won't be quick and hard. It'll be sweet and slow and make your entire body ache.'_

Draco shuddered.

'_He's not like that bitch. She was a manipulative whore. This angel wouldn't do that to you.'_The voice continued.

Draco felt a lump in his throat. Yes, yes , he did want to make love to Harry. That is exactly what he wanted. He didn't want those quick one, two, three sessions snuck behind some door somewhere. He wanted a sweet and leisurely love-making so that he would be able to taste and savor every single spot on that boy's body.

But...

'_He's not like her_.' The voice spoke up again. Draco wished he could believe that.

"Where are you from?" Harry asked, seemingly not noticing the way the other boy was beginning to lag behind. Once again, Draco quickly sped up till he was a pace or two behind the other boy. Keeping the boy's graceful and delectable ass in plain view even as he cursed himself for it.

Clearing his throat in hopes the other boy wouldn't notice the huskiness, Draco replied. "Bit of every where really."

Harry's eye brows rose questioningly.

"My father owns Malfoy Enterprises." Draco supplied, this time unable to keep the mockery out of his voice. "We used to move around quite a bit."

"Used to?" The other boy echoed, waving at a dark-haired boy who had just pulled up across the street. Draco scowled while Harry wasn't looking. He didn't like the way the boy was looking at them.

'_You mean looking at Harry.'_ Draco corrected. His scowl deepened. This was ridiculous. He was acting like an idiot.

He'd only acted like an idiot once before and he wasn't going to do it again. He'd learned how much it hurt you in the end. It always ended up hurting you in the end.

Draco started, realizing the other boy had stopped and was looking at him curiously. He flashed a cool smile.

"You okay?" Harry asked, eyes taking on a concerned glint.

Draco nodded, forcing himself to stay as calm as he possibly could. "I'm fine."

Harry gave him a penetrating look, eyes sweeping over his features minutely before he flashed a shy smile. "So, used to?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes. My father decided that he would be more effective, business-wise, if he stayed at the home office from now on." Draco drawled, shoving his earlier thoughts to the side once again.

Now was not the time to drudge up ancient history. He'd done it enough in the past and he'd undoubtedly do it again but not here and not now.

"I see." Harry responded, though his voice wavered enough to reveal that he didn't 'see' at all but was still making an effort.

Draco smiled. _'So naïve. So perfect. God I want him.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: First and foremost, a big thank you to everyone whose reviewed and set this for in their story alerts. I honestly can't believe everyone likes this as much as they do so...thank you!

Second on the agenda is to say that there will not be a new chapter posted until late Saturday evening as I won't be back home until then. I do have plans, however, to post a chapter tomorrow evening before I leave so you'll get two updates for the price of one - kind of.

Third, for those who might have not seen it, this story has a graphic (yay!), which you can find through my profile page. I'm sorry for not putting a link directly here - for reasons I don't want to explore due to sheer frustration, the site butchers the link address every time I post it. _sigh_

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**Chapter 4**

Harry had never considered himself a graceful person. Point of fact, he had always felt too lanky and lean to actual contain anything other than a stumbling drawl to his steps. But, at the same time, he had never thought of himself as completely clumsy like, for instance, Regina Sprout's employee, Neville Longbottom.

The cherub faced boy had been in secondary school with Harry and there wasn't a day that went by that the other boy hadn't stumbled, fell or otherwise bumped into something causing a cacophony of noise and disaster. Not that Harry held it against the other boy. Neville was endearing, in his own way, but painfully clumsy.

Which was why, Harry supposed, at this very moment he felt such a kinship with the other boy.

'_Just one foot in front of the other, Harry._' He told himself, carefully measuring his steps so he wouldn't trip and fall. That was the last thing he needed to do. He didn't think he could bear the embarrassment if he tripped.

Swallowing, Harry felt a flush rising up his cheeks that had more to do with his own self-awareness than of the afternoon heat. He wished he had worn one of his better tee shirt and jeans today. Not that any of his clothes were in a much better state than what he had on but there were was at least one pair of jeans that were a little _less_ faded out.

Harry swallowed again, looking up at the other boy from under his lashes.

'_Sweet Merlin..._'

The blonde looked so...so...

Another flush crawled up his cheeks, making his cheeks burn. His jeans felt decidedly tight all of a sudden. Maybe the faded jeans **had **been a good choice for today...

Taking a deep breath, the dark haired boy hesitated, stopping a meter away from the blonde despite wanting to move closer. He didn't want to get too close. Not until he got some control over his body. If the other boy saw...

Harry shifted on his feet, eyes looking over the other boy's face slowly to buy himself time.

He was completely unlike anyone Harry had every seen before: soft and deceptively delicate looking, almost like the porcelain dolls his Aunt Petunia collected. His skin reminded Harry of cream and the flush that now covered his face from the sun made the raven haired boy want to run his fingers over it to see if it was cool. His lips were thin, almost painted on, though the bottom was full, seeming to form into a natural pout.

Harry couldn't help but let his eyes pause there for a second. He'd never kissed another boy before, not really. Seamus didn't count. They'd both been drunk and there lips had barely touched before Harry had stumbled drunkenly into the wall and had to sit down from dizziness. After that, each time the Irish boy had tried to instigate something, Harry had brushed him off. He wasn't interested in him.

In all truths, Harry had never much been interested in any boy in this town much less wanted to kiss any of them.

But this boy, with hair so blonde and so satiny looking it made Harry's palms itch to feel it, made him not only want to kiss another boy but literally feast on him.

Harry shuddered faintly, fighting down a moan as he pushed his hands into his pockets. He wanted nothing more than to just pin the boy against the brick wall beside them and...and...and do whatever it was that his body was screaming at him to do even if he wasn't sure he knew what that was.

The dark haired boy shifted again, watching as the other boy did the same. The way the boy's clothes slide against his skin made a lump rise in Harry's throat. He cleared his throat, smiling slightly as a flush stole across his cheeks again with the way the other boy jerked ever so gently at the sudden noise.

'_You can do this._' He cheered himself, feeling a ball of tension roll inside him.

"You lost?"

Harry pressed his hands against his legs within his pockets. No, that didn't make him sound lame _at all..._

"Actually, I was fixing to go to the Leaky Cauldron." The blonde murmured after a moment, his voice smooth as silk.

Harry felt his insides quiver even as surprise shuttered through him. Sweet Merlin All Mighty, the boy's voice was refined and sweet, a mixture of 

accents so faint that they all combined to make music. It was like listening to a choir of angels.

**This** boy was going to the Cauldron?

"The mechanic told me there was a phone there...?" The blonde explained, answering Harry's unasked question even as his voice lilted ever so slightly at the end showing just how much he believed the mechanic.

Harry would have laughed if he wasn't so nervous. That didn't surprise him. The town mechanic was kind of -- well, no one tended to believe Justin, even on a good day.

"Ah." Harry finally murmured, eyes shifting to look down the walkway behind the blonde as he saw a car making it's way down the road in the distance. It was Seamus. There was no mistaking that old piece of junk he drove even from this far away.

He gave a small smile, eyes turning back to the blonde. This was his town; his home. He didn't need to be so nervous. "Afraid the natives will bite, huh?"

Harry felt a thrill of pleasure shoot through him as the other boy began to laugh, a soft silvery sound that made him run hot and cold all at once. He hoped he could hear it again. Soon.

"You could say that." The boy chuckled, the laughter and voice curling in the pit of Harry's stomach.

Harry continued to smile, even as he felt goose flesh prickle his skin. He could listen to the other boy talk all day. All night. Hell, any time he liked because the more he talked the more Harry got little shock waves of pleasure shooting front his groin, to his stomach to his heart and then back again.

God, the boy was even more radiant when he smiled. It made him literally glow in the sun shine. Even with the tiny amused smile that tilted his lips now...

Harry shuffled his feet. The boy reminded him of a Greek statue he'd once seen in one of the book's Hermione had brought back after a summer vacation across Europe. He didn't remember the name but the statue personified everything that this boy in front of him was.

"So..." Harry began again, suddenly realizing that'd lapped into silence and he'd been staring. Merlin, he wasn't a little kid anymore. He should have known better than to just **stare**.

He was probably making the other boy uncomfortable, if the way the blonde's face seemed to be shifting into an expression Harry didn't even pretend to understand. It was one that he'd seen on Ron's face before when Hermione had worn her new bathing suit but...it was something else as well. Something that made Harry want to just do whatever the boy told him.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't going to think about it.

"So..." He began again, grimacing slightly when a piece of his hair fell onto his forehead to stick. It was to hot. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he nervously ran it through his hair, making sure to keep some hair over his scarred forehead before continuing, " Want some company to the Cauldron?"

Liquid pleasure shot through him as the boy's smile grew. "I'd love some."

Harry blushed, toes curling in his shoes. The other boy wanted company. And not just any company, he wanted Harry's.

"Follow me."

Turning on his heels, Harry begin to walk slow and leisurely, being sure not to stumble and make a fool out of himself.

'_I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe he said "yes". I can't believe this is__**real**__.'_Harry babbled mentally, the knot in his stomach loosening minutely. The other boy wasn't going to just disappear. _'Stay cool, Harry. Just, stay cool.'_

Harry glanced over, realizing the other boy was just starting to walk by his side. He slowed down. Jesus, here he was walking like the very devil was after him and he all but left the blonde behind!

The blonde flashed him another smile. "Sorry, it's just so hot."

Harry felt a sigh of relief spring to his lips as he flashed his own smile and rolled his shoulders.

"It's always like this, this time of year. It's not so bad when you get used to it." He said, pushing his glasses up his nose from where they had slide.

And that was true. Over the years, Harry had become more than accustomed to the warm weather the small town supplied in full every year without fail. Most people were accustomed to it and like most anyone who lived in a warm climate would tell you, all you had to do was know how to beat the heat to be used to it. Stay in the shade, drink lots of water and a keeping a fan around wasn't such a bad idea. Those were some of the reasons most of the locals ended up at the Leaky Cauldron this time of day.

Despite the amenities the town had, most of the people there were simple farmers and didn't own air conditioning units much less fans. The Cauldron was a welcome retreat on a hot day, serving cold drinks, cool air and good food. Everyone loved it there.

"How long have you lived here?"

Harry had to fight the urge to stop in surprise. Not that it was in some way an odd question, after all, people asked you about where you lived or whatnot every day but, somehow, the way the other boy asked the question, as if Harry's question was the answer to a puzzle, made him feel uncomfortable.

The dark haired boy felt his lips tighten. It wasn't an intimate question. It was simple. It didn't feel simple though. It wasn't simple to answer. Not for Harry, anyway. He wanted to just tell the blonde his whole life story in one go and that was disturbing. Not even Ron's mother, Molly, so much like a mother to Harry knew all of Harry's past. She never really asked, not wanting to upset him and Hermione and Ron...

They knew the story but never brought it up. They knew his suspicions and his worries but they **never** brought it up unless he did. So, why, now, did he want to tell this complete stranger -- everything?

"You don't have to answer that if you --" The blonde began and Harry blinked, quickly cutting of the boy.

"No, no sorry." Harry said, mentally wanting to punch himself. "I was just thinking. I've lived here most of my life."

'_There, that sounded -- all right._'

He knew it wasn't though. He could feel the other boy's eyes on him even as he ignored them. What a time to dwell on things that couldn't be changed. On things that he didn't even know were true or not...

The two of them continued on in silence. Harry wanted to slap himself. How could he let his own bitterness make things uncomfortable between them? He was just beginning to relax!

"Where are you from?" Harry asked. It was a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation but it was an attempt. He glanced over at the other boy, feeling the way the blonde speed up to match his stride with the question.

"Bit of everywhere really." He supplied. Okay, that was a start. Harry raised an eyebrow.

The blonde's lips twisted. "My father owns Malfoy Enterprises." His voice hardened. "We used to move around quite a bit."

Harry's eyes shifted away from the blonde; instead settling on the beaten down junk heap of a car Seamus had just pulled in across the street in front of a supply store. Harry waved.

"Used to?"

Harry smiled faintly as his friend waved from across the street, giving both Harry and the boy next to him a pointed look before slipping inside the store. Harry blushed, though he wasn't sure why the way Seamus had looked at them made him feel -- he blushed some more.

After a moment, he glanced over, wanting to see if the blonde had caught the look when he suddenly realized the boy had stopped. He turned and swallowed -- hard.

The look on the blonde's face was one he knew he'd worn a million times before just after a frightening realization or -- nightmare. It was one the screamed that whatever it was the boy had seen had horrified him.

'_I hate you Seamus!'_ Harry wailed mentally, cursing his friend six ways to Sunday. Obviously the boy had seen the look and whatever it had meant had upset him.

"You okay?" He asked after a moment. He was concerned. He was. The boy looked even paler than he had to begin with but even so, Harry wished he could break away and go give Seamus a good swift kick where the sun didn't shine.

The blonde blinked, jerking. "I'm fine."

Harry's eyes narrowed. It didn't take a genius to figure out the boy was lying. He still looked shaken up but Harry wasn't going to push it. "So, used to?"

"Hm?" The blonde hummed distractedly, blinking again. "Oh. Yes. My father decided that he would be more effective, business-wise, if he stayed at the home office from now on."

Harry chewed the inside of his lip. That made sense but the way the blonde said it didn't. He acted as though nothing at all had happened just then. That he hadn't been upset moments before.

"I see." Harry said, even though, he really just didn't see at all. What had upset the blonde so?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: As always, thank you so very much for the reviews. I appreciate them more than I can say. :)

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**Chapter 5**

Draco had often heard an expression about the 'idle rich'. How the woman lazed about all day, flirting and pampering themselves while the men went and tempted fate by doing one death defying thing after another. Draco had often wondered if he fit into that category. After all, he had spent most of his young life drifting from club to club, party to party till all of it began to blur into one long session of sex, music, drinks and more sex.

But, still, Draco still wondered if that qualified him. After all, that stereotype only held true for the nouveaux riches, whom were so busy being dazzled by their own wealth they couldn't see past the nose on their faces without dropping a ribbon of bills. And, nouveaux riches the Malfoy's most certainly weren't.

Though it was true that most of his family's fortune had been made by his father, Lucius, who was the president and founder of Malfoy Enterprises, a subsidiary of Voldemort Industries, the Malfoy's still had a hefty amount of money made by his grandfather and great-grandfather. Both of which, had bequeathed their money to their heir of choice. In his great-grandfather's case, it was his son, Draco's grandfather, and in his grandfather's case, he had left his small fortune to Draco. Much to the disgust of his own father.

But that was the draw of the hand and Draco took great pleasure in rubbing that in his father's face. Every time the man threatened to write him out of his will, Draco simply had to mention his grandfather and the discussion would be over. Draco was, after all, no slouch in the business arena and could, with the aid of his inheritance, easily rival his father in just a little inside of a year.

As it was, in the last year alone, the blonde had made enough money in the stock market that, should he choose to open Draco Enterprises, he could do it with an easy that his father had never had. Despite the man being a sharp book keeper and even smarter weasel, Malfoy Ent. had not paid taxes in nearly twelve years, the elder Malfoy knew nil to nothing about business. That was left up to his "supposed" partners, Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr., both of which were to dumb to notice his father was sucking them dry and using them long enough before he could swoop in last minute to close the deal.

Draco on the other hand, knew all about making connections and talking to the right people. He'd been doing it since the day he was born; following in his grandfather's footsteps. His father wouldn't and couldn't stand a chance. But, despite the success beckoning, the blonde hadn't put any real decisive plans into action. He was still making certain important connections to ensure his father and anyone else who would try to rival him, didn't stand a chance.

Which why, he thanked, was the reason he was walking in a companionable silence next to one of the most delectable young men he'd ever seen instead of sitting behind a desk in some high rise building in Hogsmeade.

'_Thank Merlin.'_ He thought, licking his lips as he watched the tanned boy walking just a step or two in front of him once again push his glasses up his nose with one perfectly long finger.

Draco sighed, images of wrapping his lips around that one perfect digit and sucking on it as if it were an ice pop entering his mind in a haze. All the things he could do to the boy. All the things that he could show him...

"Dammit." Draco hissed quietly, clenching his fingers together. The heat was getting to him. Every time he began to think, his thoughts always came back to doing something to this boy.

"...did you say?"

"What?" Draco asked, startled. He hadn't said any of that out loud, had he?

Harry frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Draco even as he slowed his movements. "I said, what did you say?"

Draco blinked, licking his lips again. Harry looked -- adorable -- with his forehead crinkled like that. "It's just hot, is all."

Harry shook his head, frown disappearing into a teasing smile. "To hot for you, cityboy?"

Draco's heart tripped. Fuck, if only the boy knew.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not a country bumpkin like you, all sunshine and...sunshine." He replied smoothly. It wasn't his best response, wasn't his wittiest but it was all he could say to keep from grabbing the boy and showing him just how hot he could get.

Harry laughed, smile widening and eyes twinkling. Draco wanted to groan, he could feel himself twitching inside his khakis every time the boy laughed. Hell, every time the boy breathed it was like an electric jolt straight down to groin.

"C'mon, cityboy, we're not that far and I promise to buy you a nice cold drink to cool you off." The raven haired boy promised, giving the blonde another shyly pleased smile.

Draco nodded, biting his tongue fiercely as he felt himself twitch again. This boy was going to make him do something in his pants he hadn't done since he was in grade-school!

Hurrying along the side-walk with a smooth glide that belied the problem he was currently suffering, Draco couldn't help but feel a thrill on anticipation. Okay, so the boy was just buying him a drink to make sure he didn't wither and fade in this god forsaken heat but it was still drinks -- together.

'_And you know what that means.'_ The blonde thought. Yes, he did. Most of his partners over the years had been won over just by having a drink with him. Even if it was just a sip in a club while he whispered to them all the talents he was gifted with or during a smoky session as he seduced 

one of the sons or daughters of one of the people he needed connections with, they were always his in the end.

"Hey."

Draco twitched. "Yes?"

Harry's laughter was like butterflies in the blonde's stomach. "I don't know your name."

Draco swallowed, smiling coyly as he could at the other boy. "You never asked."

Harry laughed again. Oh sweet fucking Merlin.

"What's your name?"

"Draco, Draco Malfoy."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: From this chapter forward, the two-sided point of views (i.e. rehashing the same scene from each boy's point-of-view) will end. As much as I enjoy writing both sides, to advance the story, I thought it prudent to lay those to rest for a while. Also, for those who've read this before, the bathroom scene is next. ;)

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**Chapter 6**

In the decades that the Leaky Cauldron had been established in the small town of Little Whinging, it had changed very little. It was still the demure and homey looking place it had been since the day it had opened. The door was always a rounded sturdy oak, worn down to dull after years of use and it was, essentially, still just a hole in the wall that people could come to when they wanted good food, good drink and good conversation.

A perfect place for a small town. Which was why, Harry supposed, he liked it so much. Despite longing for the glitz and glamour that was in Hogsmeade, a part of him, one that he couldn't help but acknowledge every time he went to the Cauldron, harbored a great fondness for the place and it's owner Tom. Perhaps, because it was the only place within the town as a whole that Harry felt at home in.

"Not much to look at, is it?"

Harry smiled easily at the other boy, a strange calm washing over him to fade away his nervousness. The Cauldron always had that affect on him. He wasn't sure why, but it did.

"It gets better." Harry assured, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear even as he moved towards the dull oak door, a wooden hanging over the embossed with, now, faded golden letters that spelled out 'The Leaky Cauldron' with a depiction of a large bulbous cauldron with a crack in it's bottom just beneath.

The blonde cocked his head, licking his lips and shrugged. "If you say so."

The farm-town boy smiled again, his stomach clenching as he watched the hint of the blonde's tongue slip back between his lips. He flushed. "I do."

Harry self-consciously gave a boyish smile, stopping mere inches away from the entrance to the tavern. "Trust me."

Draco stopped as well, his reflective sunglasses trained on Harry as he shifted on his feet. His face was twisted into an expression that Harry wasn't sure he could place, almost as if he wasn't sure if Harry was ng ong or not.

A bead of sweat trickled down Harry's spine. Did Draco suddenly look a little paler than he had a moment ago? Harry frowned.

"Are you all right?" He asked, brow crinkling in concern. Maybe the heat **was** really getting to the blonde. Even if Harry had teased him about being a city boy, he didn't look well at all. "Draco, are you--" He began again but was cut off.

"I do."

Harry blinked. "You do?"

"I mean," The blonde cleared his throat, flashing a smile that made Harry's stomach do a strange flip and his heart thump in his chest while he wished he could just adjust himself in his jeans. "I'm fine."

Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. The blonde looked fine _now _or, at least, was starting to but he hadn't moments ago.

'_What did I say?' _The bespectacled boy thought, trying to study the boy's features from beneath his lashed. _'All I said was trust me...'_

"Come on, bumpkin, don't just stand there. Impress me." Draco teased after a moment, his lapse all but forgotten in his voice if not his face.

Harry gave a small smile at the nickname. The blonde was trying to distract him. That was obvious enough but he wasn't that easily swayed. Ron had always said Harry was like a scent dog, hunting down the bits and pieces till he found what he was looking for. But, he couldn't force the blonde to tell him, they had just met after all.

"Watch it, city-boy." Harry supplied lamely, allowing himself to be lured away from his train of thought. He'd wonder about it later. Preferably when he was laying in bed in his flat, window open to help with the heat and clothes off. "Talk like that could get you into a mess of trouble."

"A mess of--" Draco began to repeat before sputtering with laughter. Harry grinned.

Talking to this boy was like riding a roller coaster. Or, that's what Harry supposed since he'd never actually ridden one. He'd heard all about them from Hermione though and, if he ever imagined what it'd be like, having a conversation and trying to puzzle this boy out would be what it was like. One minute you were laughing and joking and the next you were trying to work out his inner secrets. It was almost dizzying.

"C'mon, cityboy." Harry said, once Draco's laughter had died down to light chuckles. "We need to get out of the sun before we bake."

Draco nodded, the corners of his lips upturned into a semblance of an amused smile. "Go ahead, impress me."

"You asked for it." The raven hair boy supplied, turning back to the Cauldron's door, grabbing the brass door knob and turning it. He let the door swing open with a flourish. "After you."

The blonde's mouth twitched, he moved forward, body momentarily pressing against Harry's own before he glided past. "Thank you."

Harry swallowed. Sweet Merlin, he needed a cold drink. A very cold drink. And, maybe, a few minutes alone in the bathroom while he tried to adjust his hard on to a less obvious position.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: Ah, the bathroom scene. One of my favorites. This chapter alone is what the mature rating is for so be warned. :)

Also, I want to give many wonderful thanks to those who reviewed and everyone who responded positively to the halting of the dual scene point-of-views. The story itself was taking far too long to tell and I hadn't planned on doing them for the entire story but just long enough for the readers to get a good grasp on how each boy feels.

That being said, there will be a two day delay in posting the next chapter as I have to do some serious catching up on my other stories. Never fear, however, the next chapter is written and ready to be posted. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 7**

It had been, quite literally, years since Draco had been in a bar, or building even, that wasn't on Hogsmeade's A-list in society. In his misspent youth, he'd traveled from club to club, designer store to designer store for his needs, all the while setting the trend for what was popular. After all, Draco **was** a Malfoy and since Lucius Malfoy owned half the city, all it's newspapers and quite a few of it's bank chains, well--Draco could easily sway the general public. All he had to do was put in a quiet word to one gossip mongrel about how he wasn't going to _that_ club or store anymore and the word spread like wildfire, whatever it was would soon be out of business.

Another reason why most business owners quite literally catered to Draco's every need; no matter how wild or outlandish it was. Draco **made** the place. Even after an entire year of reforming himself into a _respectable_ force to be reckoned with, the trend followed him. Young elite men and women were trying their best to follow in Draco's footsteps, leaving black leather and mesh behind, something that he had favored during those years, in favor of tailored slacks and business suits. It was amusing in a irritating kind of way. At least, to Draco.

But now, the blonde had to wonder if all those clubs, stores and restaurants all had the wrong idea. Maybe catering just to the elite customers was the wrong thing to do. Maybe, just maybe, it should be the customers catering to the place with the workers catering to every customer.

"Impressed?" A warmly pleased voice curled into his ear, the distinct feel of his companion's body heat slamming into his already warmed back. Draco swallowed a moan, nodding slowly as he reached up to pull of his sun-glasses.

The rich homely interior of The Leaky Cauldron wasn't at all what the blonde had expected. Deeply rich mahogany glistened somewhat in the dim lighting; brass buttons and soft down leather covered bar stools, booth seats, and individual chairs. Aged wood made the makings of a breath taking display as the pieces ran together in the floor, an odd light and dark pattern there after years of wear.

Booths lined the far side of the room, only separated with a partition of wood and blown glass with tables snugly fit into each alcove. Practical supple wood tables were scattered here and there in the in-between, single vintage Italian-style candles shinned in the middle, wax dripping down the bottle sides; four sturdy chairs were pushed by each side. In the back, the blonde could just make out another alcove, almost completely obscured, that he could only guess held a pool table and, more than likely, a dart board.

But all this paled in comparison to the bar. The bar that was closest to Draco that even now made him want to saddle down, order a drink and just -- relax. Set into the wall closest to the door, it's worn top still glistened and it's brass railing made his finger's want to run over the smooth surface. Just behind there were the old spickets for ale and behind that, an inset held a variety of bottles. An aged mirror, one that had to be more than a hundred years old, ran along it's length with soft lighting surrounding it.

Draco was in awe. He'd never seen the like of this. He would have thought he had stepped back in time if it wasn't for the modern dressed patrons scattered around and the warm tantalizing presence behind him that he, even now, was acutely aware of.

A warm chuckled sent vibrations of pleasure down his spine. "I'll take that as a yes."

Draco turned, folding and clipping his sunglasses into the front of button down to hang as he looked at the other boy with wide silver eyes. Harry's face shinned with quiet amusement, emerald eyes sparkling with pleasure. He looked like a god.

"This is--" Draco trailed. He wasn't exactly sure what to call this. Sure, it wasn't one of the places he would usually pick but it was utterly charming, reminding him of a bistro he had once been to while traveling across Europe. The place had an old world charm, something that Draco, secretly, held very close to his heart.

The raven haired boy chuckled again, a pleased smile crossing his lips that went straight to the blonde's libido, which hadn't cooled at all during his inspection. "I told you. I love this place." Harry grinned impishly. "It feels like home."

Draco nodded. Yes, it did. It felt even more like home than his mansion did, which now seemed so cold, large and uninviting compared to this warm nook. How could he expect to drag Harry to that place? The boy deserved to feel comfortable and at ease, something which Draco wasn't sure he'd feel in the large Malfoy ancestral home.

Draco flexed his fingers. '_There's nothing you can do about it now. And, anyway, if you're worried about it, just take him to the penthouse.' _A voice spoke up in the back of his mind, reminding him almost painfully that all he wanted to do was get this boy somewhere remotely private so he could fuck him into oblivion and suck him dry.

"So," he began, hesitating briefly as he licked his lips. Harry's impish smile was still in place and it was slowly undoing him. He could feel himself twitching spastically in his khakis. Fuck, he was going to **explode**.

"So." Harry repeated teasingly, head cocking to the side as he rested his hands lightly on his hips. " I believe I said something about getting you a cold drink, hm?"

Draco opened his mouth, the words '_I'd much rather you cool me off' _on his tongue before he forced them back, smiling beatifically. "I believe you mentioned something to that effect, yes."

Harry grinned, bouncing on his heels.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint you then, cityboy. C'mon," he said, pressing so close to Draco's side the blonde could smell the sweet scent of sweat, musk and something uniquely Harry as he brushed by.

Draco groaned silently. His dick felt like it was on fire and if he got any harder he was sure it would rip through the seam in his pants. '_Merlin, have mercy, please let there be a private bathroom around here.'_ He pleaded.

Turning again, he followed the boy silently, his gait slightly stiffened. The khaki from his jeans was like an almost pleasurable torture as it rubbed against him with each step. It didn't help his condition at all that Harry's tee-shirt had somehow hiked up his back and showed a delicious expansion of tanned skin pulled over a feline spine. Fuck.

Harry threw a smile over his shoulder at him as he reached the bar side. "Want anything in particular?"

Draco felt a surprisingly genuine smile curve his lips in return. Not that it was surprising since, it seemed, not only was Harry turning him into a perpetually walking hard on but also, a genuine one at that. Hoping his voice wasn't too husky, he replied. "Anything, really. Just nothing fruity."

He crinkled his nose at the thought. The last time he had let someone coerce him into a drink, the girl--whatever her name was, he couldn't remember--had brought him back a lime green drink with bobbing fruit in it. Not so bad, really, until you took the first sip of it. Laced with so much alcohol it had left Draco with so much of a hang over that it had turned him off of fruity drinks for quite some time.

Harry laughed. "Nothing fruity, check." He turned back to the bartender, a gnarled gray-haired old man that had appeared sometime during the question and answer and leaned forward revealing even more of that curving spine and lush skin.

Draco shifted, clamping his thighs together to stave off the orgasm that was beckoning. Fuck, he needed the bathroom and he needed it now. He cleared his throat, flashing a smile as Harry turned back to him.

"Bathroom?"

Harry laughed softly again, a smile creasing his lips. "That way." He said pointing towards the back. "First door on the left."

Draco nodded, giving a smile of thanks as he turned and hurried past the few patrons that were looking at him curiously. He could feel their eyes on him as he tried to calmly walk towards the bathroom while keeping a cool smile on his face. It really wasn't working. All he could see was the golden skin of Harry's back sweat flushed.

Was that what it would look like with Harry on all fours before him, back arching as Draco pounded into him?

The blonde swallowed, hurrying his steps. He could see, just beyond the alcove that held the pool table and darts, as he had predicted, a narrow hallway. There was no sign outside the door 

that labeled it as the bathroom but that's what it quite obviously was since one man strolled out of it casually, running a comb through his hair.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, Harry was sitting on a bar stool, speaking quietly to the bartender. As if feeling the blonde's eyes on him, Harry's eyes shifted to his and he a t a tiny smile, a small blush creeping up his cheeks.

Draco bolted into the bathroom, all but slamming the door behind him. Dropping the lock into place, the blonde slumped against the worn door. Sweet fucking Merlin!

Letting his eyelids droop, Draco moaned quietly, images of his hands on that skin dancing behind his lids. He mouth watered. God, all the ways he could suck, nip and mar that skin with marks that showed that Harry was **his** and **his alone**.

Groaning, Draco hastily dropped his hands to his khakis, unbuttoning and unzipping them before he could even draw in a complete breath. Pushing down the fabric, Draco shoved a hand into the silk green fabric of his bikini underwear and squeezed himself fiercely to push away the orgasm that was threatening. He groaned again in protest, biting his lower lip.

Already there was a wet spot on his silk underwear; he couldn't afford to have himself come in his pants. Pulling his hand shakily from inside the fabric, Draco slowly pushed it down his thighs till it hung around his knees with his pants. Lifting his hands and letting his head fall back against the door, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his toned stomach, till the fabric of his shirt was pushed beneath his arms, snugly out of the wall.

Opening his eyes, Draco tilted his head forward, eyes lighting on his own problem. Aching red and bobbing free in the air, his erection stood proudly in a tuft of wiry dirty blonde curls. He groaned. Fucking hell.

Bracing his feet apart, the blonde let one hand trail down his chest, tweaking a nipple before sliding down the planes of his stomach. If only Harry was doing this to him. If only Harry was here, on his knees, grinning saucily up at him as he leaned forward to lick and suck on him.

A soft keening noise came from deep within his throat. Pressing his other hand flush against his chest just over one of his nipples, he rubbed, hesitating briefly to tug at the blonde curls around his erection. He hissed.

He tugged again, moaning. Thank god the door was made of thick wood or otherwise those people outside were going to hear quite a show. Tangling his fingers into the hair, Draco sighed as his hand finally wrapped around his straining erection.

"Fuck," Draco hissed, squeezing his eyes closed as he tightened his hold. He could just see Harry now, beautiful angelic face misted over with pleasure as Draco did what he was doing now to himself to the him. What would he sound like? Would he be quiet? Loud?

"Harry..." The blonde moaned, starting to pump his hand slowly. His erection twitched and jumped within his hand. How he wished he could spend more time here but he didn't have the luxury. The fantasy come reality angel was outside waiting for him.

Opening his eyes and training them on his hands. He speed his pace, eyes misting over with images of Harry on the floor in front of him, mouth wrapped around his dick; Harry's body flushed, face twisting as Draco pumped him, licked him. Harry leaning against the pillows on his bed, playing with himself. Harry on all fours, arse in the air, waiting for Draco to pound him. Harry spread out beneath him, legs wrapped around Draco's waist as he drove into him hard and fast. Harry, Harry, Harry...

Draco stuffed a fist into his mouth, a strangled scream escaping from his throat as he felt his balls draw up, he'd been waiting so long, he wasn't going to last long. He pumped faster, squeezing and releasing his erection as he felt the familiar warmth spread in his balls, stomach and chest. His body jerked, slapping quietly against the wooden door as warm jets of come streamed from his weeping member to splatter against the top of his things and abs.

"Harry." Draco croaked, hand falling to his side as he squeezed the door knob in his hands for support, head pressing back against the door. His hand on his dick continued to squeeze and milk the last of his orgasm from him, come still splattering against him. It seemed to go on forever.

"Ah." He whimpered, his dick finally beginning to soften from the living steel it had been moments ago. Sweat from his exertion began to cool as his back pressed against the cool wood behind him as he lazily pumped his erection, once, twice, three times till it was soft enough to let go.

He uncurled his fist, letting it drop to his side. Panting, he looked up at the ceiling. Fuck, it had never been that good before. Never.

'_And you haven't even touched him yet...'_ He thought with a weak chuckle. If it was one fourth as good, which he had **no** doubts it would be, he might not live through it when he finally slept with the boy.

'_God, I've got it bad._' He thought, pushing himself off the door and shuffling forward carefully, minding not to trip over his pants or let his shirt fall, towards the sink and toilet.

Reaching out to the roll of toilet paper, he quickly tore off a wad and began wiping off his stomach and thighs. He gave another weak chuckle. At least now he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of the other boy.

Throwing the soiled tissue into the toilet, Draco leaned over and flushed before leaning forward to turn on the faucet. Leaning over, Draco quickly washed his hands, shaking them dry before reaching down to pull up his bikini underwear and pants. His hissed as his over sensitized fleshed rubbed against the silk before sighing. Buttoning and zipping himself, the blonde glanced at the mirror.

His cheeks had rosy spots of color and his mouth was open as he panted softly; his hair was mused from pressing it again the door. God, he couldn't go out there looking like this. Lifting his arms and letting his shirt drop, Draco leaned forward and splashed some water on his face and ran a wet hand over the back of his neck.

He could already feel himself calming down, his racing heart was slowing to a normal beat and the after-glow was relaxing his muscles in such a way that he almost felt like his normal self. Almost.

Sighing, he stood up, using a wet hand to scrub his face and run through his hair. There, he looked better. Switching off the faucet, he leaned forward to snatch bro brown paper towels from off the back of the sink and patting his face and hand dry.

Dropping those into the trash, he stepped back, one hand coming up to run through his hair again. Straightening himself, he stared at his reflection. He didn't look half bad. The glowing flush made his skin seem softer and his eyes stand out. He smiled.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to the door. Time to get back to the angel waiting for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Please forgive me for extending the delay on posting beyond the two days I posted. It is currently 104F (feels like 110F) and the past couple days I've been forced to be out in the sun for extended periods of time. Needless to say, I've been suffering for it and am exhausted. As always, thank you for the lovely reviews and being patient with this cooked goose.

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**Chapter 8**

If there was one thing about the Cauldron that Harry could say was his favorite, it'd have to be the way Tom, the bartender, made his drinks. Somehow, either with years of experience or innate talent, the old man turned each of the normal every day drinks into something special, unique. Each sip was like having a wild party or slow sensuous dance on your tongue, depending on which you got.

Which was why Harry was now mooning over which drink he should get the blonde instead of thinking about how he wished he were just a little less shy so he could stride into the bathroom, pin the blonde against the wall and just do what his body was screaming for him to do. '_Not like it'd do much good.'_ Harry thought, cheeks burning red as he tried to concentrate on the list of drinks Tom had given him moments before, even though he knew it by heart.

'_I don't even know if he likes other blokes.'_ Harry thought before the burning in his cheeks spread down his neck and into his shirt. Never consciously had he ever thought about liking men or women before. Sure, he'd been attracted to both. Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory were a perfect example of that but he'd never actually put a whole lot of conscious thought into it.

Cho, he had met the summer before last. The sun flower faced girl had been visiting her relatives that lived just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and she had taken a liking to Harry almost instantly. Her flirtatious affections and carefree attitude towards life had attracted him in turn despite his trying to remind himself that she would only be there for one summer before going back home.

For hours the two of them would spend down by the local lake, talking and laughing and just have a good time. It was nice to be in her company. She never asked questions about his home life, something that Harry was thankful for, and she would let him prattle on about the quidditch stats and never bat an eye. She was perfect...but it had only been a summer long romance.

Both of them had known it after their first kiss. It had been sweet and chaste and everything that Harry had expected it to be when kissing a girl. But, it hadn't been enough for Harry. He had smiled, squeezed her hand, walked her to the door of her relatives' home then hurried back to his own house, wiping the peach balm lip gloss off his lips from where she had kissed him.

When he had gotten home, he had stripped off his clothes and thrown them into the wash to get the smell of her lilac perfume off then jumped into the shower. For nearly an hour he had stood under the warm spray of the shower, trying to remember the curve of her hips against his, the downy skin on her arms as he rubbed them gently, the soft sounds she made when he had finally pulled her close to kiss her...

He had had to stroke him continuously to stay hard, only coming when he stopped pretending he was thinking about her and just thought about the steady smooth glide of skin on skin. Cho, as attractive as she was, hadn't aroused him at all. Not that that was really important but back then, he'd been mortified. He was a growing young man, supposedly unable to control his body's own functions and after going out with a wonderful pretty girl, his body hadn't even care.

That was when he first had the thought that maybe he liked men better than women. Despite what his Uncle Vernon and, to some extent, his cousin and Aunt had told him about men liking other men, Harry had never seen anything wrong with it. In fact, all he thought was "love is love" and you can't help who you fall in love with.

So when Cedric Diggory had walked into his life, Harry hadn't been all to surprised to find himself wanting to spend more time with the other boy. It had been about two months after Cho had gone back home that Cedric had turned up. His father, Diggory Sr., was buying a small acreage just east of Hogsmeade and the boy had come into town looking for a part time job.

In less than a week he and Harry were inseparable. With Ron and Hermione still off on some sort of vacation with their families, the dark haired boy had enjoyed an experimental period with Cedric, trying to see if he really did like blokes as much as he thought he might. The first time he had kissed Cedric, his suspicions had been confirmed: he liked blokes as much as he liked girls.

Too bad the other boy hadn't much felt the same way. Not that he had been unkind to Harry, he had been just as willing to experiment with it as Harry was but in the end, they had both come to the understanding that Harry liked both men and women and Cedric was a ladies man. No tension arose between the two and by the time his two best friends had come back, he and Cedric thought of each other as good friends.

The rest of the four months that Cedric had been there, they had all enjoyed friendly outings and long days spent in each other's company. It had been a fun and eye-opening experience.

Harry sighed again, eyes flickering up to stare at the path to the still closed bathroom door. He wished he had the courage he had with Cedric. It had been easy to flirt with his friend. With this blonde Adonis...

Harry swallowed, jeans tightening as he curled his arms on the bar top to keep from rubbing them against himself. God, with this boy, he was way out of his league. How could he even begin to think that Draco would be interested in a hick like him?

The raven haired boy swallowed, closing his eyes briefly as a flash of how the other boy had rubbed against him when walking into the Cauldron had felt. Every nerve ending had felt alive and on fire. The smell of cologne, undoubtedly designer quality, sweat and musk that was all Draco had made his mouth water.

Swallowing again, Harry opened his eyes. The bathroom door was still closed.

'_I hope he's okay._' Harry thought, pulling his attention back from bathroom door to the menu in front of him. '_He's not used to this heat. If he gets sick...'_

Harry left that thought where it was. For some reason, the thought of the blonde getting sick disturbed him more than he liked to think about. Especially if it was from the heat.

'_I should have gotten him in here sooner._' He chastised himself distractedly. He shifted and groaned.

Clamping his legs together with a grimace, Harry pressed his fingers against the bar in front of him. He had never had this reaction to someone before. Not this quickly and definitely not for this long. The heavy wet heat of his own arousal made him want to curse.

A small part of him, a very small part, wished that this first meeting was already over so he could head back to his flat, collapse on the bed and relieve the pressure that was building. A blush stole across his cheeks.

He'd never been this -- wanton--before.

"What'll it be, 'arry?"

Harry jerked, looking up startled at Tom's sudden appearance. He fought down another blush, clearing his throat.

"Uh," Harry glanced down at the menu, he'd completely forgotten about choosing drinks. "just give me two iced teas."

Tom nodded, his gnarled face twisting into a cheerful smile as he winked at Harry and scuttled off to get the two requested drinks. Harry shifted again, eyes flickering to the bathroom and then away.

It didn't take long for the bartender to come back, two icy cold teas with a lemon wedge on the side to be placed in front of him. The tall glasses were wide, filled to the brim with frothy liquid. Harry looked up in surprise.

Tom winked. "Looks like yer in need of a cool down."

Harry blushed fiercely, head ducking as Tom walked away chuckling. He should have known the man wouldn't be fooled by his thinly concealed shy nervousness. The man was a bloody bartender, after all, they see all, even if you're trying to hide it.

"Thanks, Tom." Harry muttered, lifting one of the iced teas to his lips. The cold slide of sweetened tea felt like heaven after the short walk in the scalding sun, even it did nothing to dissipate his blush or his raging hard on.

Carefully setting the glass down, Harry let his eyes wander back to the bathroom door.

'_Merlin give me strength._' Harry thought breathlessly. Draco stood in the dimly lit doorway, his face flushed rosy, mouth open wide panting. He had obviously splashed some water onto his face to cool down if the slicked back platinum hair was any indication.

Harry flushed, looking quickly back at his drink as he lifted to his lips to take a hasty sip, his mouth suddenly felt far to dry.

'_All I want to do is touch him._' He thought, watching out the corner of his eye as the blonde slowly made his way back over to him again. His pace was slower than before, less hurried and relaxed. There was a predator like grace to his movements as he walked past the curiously turned patrons of the bar and tables. His face was a mixture of confidence, relaxation and...happiness?

"Miss me?" The blonde teased, as soon as he was close enough to Harry to be overheard.

Harry swallowed, putting down his already half-empty glass and he nodded slightly, smiling shyly.

Draco chuckled, hopping onto the bar stool next to him and lifting the other untouched glass to his lips. Harry made a noise in the back of his throat, slowly looking away.

Sweet Merlin. That flush on the blonde's cheeks looked even better close up and his lips looked decidedly kiss-able as they pressed against the clear glass of his tea. Harry looked back.

The blonde's throat worked as he gulped down one large sip, his adam's apple bobbing as he moaned delightedly. Harry lifted his glass to his lips again, looking away. All he wanted to do was lick a bath down that creamy skinned neck. God.

Pulling a piece of ice from the glass with his tongue, Harry crunched, setting the glass down again. He could feel the other boy's eyes burning into him but he couldn't bring himself to look. If he did, he knew he might lose control.

'_Please don't let me embarrass myself.' _He thought, tapping his fingertips against the side of the glass. He didn't think he could recover if he came in his pants just from watching the other boy enjoy his drink.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: Some exciting news, at least for me, on my writing front. Despite the fact that I already have a livejournal, I've been a bit distrustful after all the community and journal purges so I haven't been posting my fan fiction on it as often as I used to. That being the case, I joined InsaneJournal, that encourages the posting of fan fiction, and will be using it as a kind of "hub" to host _all_ my fan fiction. By all, I do mean all, since there are going to be _several _stories posted on there that have never and will never make it to my account due to content or rating. Also, I can promise you that if you send me feedback or want to chat, you'll definitely get a response from me there. In any case, I'll be consolidating all my fiction, graphics, and original stories there over the next few days so if you want to check it out, click on my 'homepage' link in my profile.

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**Chapter 9**

Over the span of his teenage years, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and trustee to a small fortune set aside by his grandmother, had built himself quite a reputation. Not just as the son of a billionaire or budding businessmen but also a 'Don Juan', of sorts. He was the man that every man or woman went to when they wanted to be charmed, dazzled and seduced in monumental proportions.

After all, everyone knew how the blonde acted. It was in his blood; Malfoy's never did anything by half measures. Be it in business, like his father, whom over the span of his lifetime had ruined, bought-out and otherwise over thrown re cre competitors than anyone else in over two decades; His mother, whom had society firmly in her grasp, could set socialites on their knees simply by smiling and sway the fashion industry as if it were a feather in the wind; Or, Draco, who could not only seduce anyone into his bed, gender and sexual preference be damned, but also come out of an otherwise non-negotiable business deal with a knee weakening smile, besotted "business-partner" and a unbreakable contract signed, sealed and delivered.

It was what being a Malfoy was. A credo, of sorts, that got his foot into the door and bedroom of anyone he wished. And, sometimes, he didn't even have to do the work. They would seek _him _out. They would come to _him_. They would try to seduce _him_.

If anyone had truly knew the blonde, they would have laughed at the naiveté those people showed. Draco Malfoy was not a prize to be caught, no matter how "good" you thought you were. Draco Malfoy was -- the un-catch able catch.

Which was more than a reason for power hungry idiotic imbeciles to seek him out. They **knew** that _they_ would be the ones to tame him. They would bring the capricious, cunning, sly blonde to his knees.

Some were even silly enough to believe they could win his heart and, in turn, his pocket book. If they only knew how much of a waste of time that was...

There were others, of course, that merely wanted the chance to share his bed. Something he was more than amicable about. What did he care if they wanted to whore themselves to him? They were just tools to be used.

There were others still that just wanted a piece of him, any piece they could get. Be it a business deal that would undoubtedly go sour for them, a small acknowledgment of their existence on his part or just to be said 'hello' to in passing. It was the little things that society remembered, not the big.

But, they all had something in common: they wanted to something that only Draco Malfoy could provide; money, power, influence.

And that was a he game he knew well.

When he had been younger and guileless, he'd played his role in the game for his father. He'd danced with the right people, chatted up the daughters and sons of other billionaires went to the right places at the right time. He did everything that was expected im aim as the Malfoy heir.

Then, the agonizing cruelty of reality came crashing down around him and...he grew up. Draco Malfoy grew up and did the only thing of young man of his position could do -- He rebelled.

He did all those social taboos that people would be shocked and appalled about but, instead of shunning him, society had embraced the change. He was a Malfoy. He could sway the mold; push the limits.

After that, when he was completely emerged in the glitter, smoke, drink and sex, his father had given up on him. In his father's words, he was a "socialite waste of talent". He didn't mind that in the least, even if it had stung at the time.

Now though, he was glad that was what his reputation was what it was. There were no mothers or fathers breathing down his neck or on his heels in hopes for a politically-budded romance. He just didn't have the patience for debutantes any way. They all pretended to be so innocent -- most of the ones he'd been 'courted' had spread there legs so fast it made his head spin.

There was no one hoping to become a permanent lover -- he never stayed with anyone long enough to be counted as a affair much less more.

And, last but definitely not least, there was absolutely no way anyone would win his 'true love'. He'd give up on **that** idea a long long time ago. He'd wizened up those years ago to the cold hard reality that anyone who said "I love you" were either selling something or looking to use you.

Now, when anyone tried to get him to use that phrase or use that phrase on them, he either got rid of them as quickly as possible or shoved them to their knees so their mouth could be put to better use. He didn't have time for romantic ideologies.

But here and now, in this moment, with a scrumptious feast for the eyes farm-boy sitting next to him, crunching and sucking ice chips from his glass, he would have cashed all of it in; his reputation, money and beliefs, if he could lift the boy off his bar stool, lay him over the bar top and rim him till he passed out. Sweet Merlin, he could just imagine the dark haired boy laid out over the bar top, back arched, hands bracing on the other side, thighs spread wide as he sat where he was sitting now, hands smoothing over silky cheeks to part him open and glorify in seeing that quivering opening ready and waiting for his fingers and tongue.

Draco shuddered. He could just imagine the way Harry would whimper and gasp as he used his fingertips to tease him, to slip past that tight ring of muscles and massage him from the inside. To squeeze and massage those warm cheeks as he buried his tongue into that sweet heat...

'_Fucking hell. Not again_.' Draco moaned to himself, eyes riveted on the working muscles in the other boys jaw as he feel his member twitch. He couldn't be getting hard again already. It just wasn't possible.

Lifting his glass to his lips, Draco tried to steady the shaking of his hand to gulp down the icy contents. Fuck, he couldn't keep thinking like this. It would get him into another predicament that his body just wasn't ready for again. At least, his body shouldn't be ready for it again so soon.

Draco glanced at Harry as the other boy lifted his glass again, his pink tongue snaking out to pull another ice chip into his mouth. Fuck, he was getting hard again. He couldn't be getting hard again...

"Not bad, huh?"

Draco cursed himself silently as some of his tea sloshed out onto his hand. Oh yes, that looked dignified...

"Pardon?" He asked after a moment, shaking his hand slightly to rid it of the tea. Now he was going to have to walk around with a sticky hand.

'_I will not think it. I will NOT fucking think it.'_

He glanced at the dark haired boy next to him. Harry seemed to be lightly blushing, a look of amusement and something else shimmering over his features. He gestured to the tea. "The tea, it's not bad?"

"No, it's -- quite refreshing." He murmured, licking his lips as he watched the other boy lifted his sinewy frame up and over the bar top reach something out of view. God, all that clean golden skin laid out before him. Wasn't this what he'd been daydreaming about moments before? Harry laid out before him?

"Here ya go." Harry said, pulling back and holding out a folded napkin between blunt rough fingers. Draco swallowed.

"Thank you." He husked, reaching out his hand to pluck the napkin from the boy's hand but not before letting his own fingertips ghost over that warm flesh. Merlin. It felt rough, hard, and strangely satiny.

Unlike Draco's own downy fingers, manicured and glossed, Harry's fingers were blunt, roughened by years of work, no doubt. A patch on his middle finger was callused and scraped against Draco's palm making a groan of pleasure want to pass from between his lips.

God, he couldn't wait till he had those hands all over him. It'd be heaven.

"Uh...you're...um, welcome." Harry stuttered, his perpetual blush intensifying till it disappeared down into his shirt. Draco thought he'd never seen anything so fetching before.

"So," Draco began again after a moment, not ready to deprive himself of **that** voice for one second, "do you and your mates come here often?"

Draco wanted to grimace. '_No, that didn't sound like the stupidest fucking pick-up line ever...' _

Instead, he rubbed the moisture off his fingers and smiled charmingly at the other boy. That blush was going to be his undoing for sure. It made Harry's jade eyes dance and his skin seem so inviting.

Harry shifted. He looked to be seriously considering the question. Maybe.

"Sometimes." The bespectacled boy said finally, "Actually," he hesitated "I work here."

Well, that explained it then. No wonder the boy had been so surprised when he'd said he was coming here a few minutes -- had it really been only a few minutes? -- ago.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the delay everyone. Around midday Monday, my family found out that one of my uncles on my mother's side had passed on. Midday Tuesday, we found out that another uncle, on my father's side, who had previously been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's does not in fact have Alzheimer but has been suffering mini-strokes that have permanently effected his memory. Needless to say, I just haven't had the heart to post on here or anywhere else.

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**Chapter 10**

After seventeen years and some months of living, life had taught Harry many things. Some of them practical: like how to launder his own clothes and shop bargain prices while still getting a decent fair; Some of them not so practical: like how to make sure there was just the right amount of foam on top of a butter beer or warm a brewed cider to just the right temperature so it has some bite to it. But, all that aside, one of the things he had learned and was now reminded of, was: be proud of what you have, no matter how shabby it is.

Which was what he was currently trying to tell himself as he waited for the blonde's reaction. He didn't think he could take the embarrassment if Draco said something scathing about his current occupation. Not that he was particularly ashamed of it. Dish washing and the occasionally bar tending was far better than some of his friend's faired.

He didn't even want to begin to imagine what it would be like to work in Madame Spourt's shop as Neville did, though admittedly the boy enjoyed it. Or, worse yet, work on a dolefully dull job as bookkeeper like Ron's older brother Percy did. Though, again, the role of bookkeeper was decidedly apt for the stuffy elder Weasley, who, as Ron put it, "wouldn't know fun if it bit him on the arse". But still, it was a matter of principal and pride.

It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't have had to work to support himself, he still would have. After years of subjugation to his relatives, working of his own free will was a god send to Harry. In all its forms.

Even washing dishes, other peoples or his own, because he chooses to was like -- tasting freedom. It was amazing. And no amount of censure from one party or another would make him feel bad about it.

Yet, he so badly wanted the blonde to approve -- or at least accept his occupational choice of the moment and not belittle it like so many had before.

Harry winced, thinking about the times some of his "friends" had teased him about being a dish washer. It had been light-hearted teasing, to be sure, but it had still hurt knowing that none, not even Ron and Hermione, knew how much it meant to him to be able to do what he wanted, when he wanted. To be able to just quit something if he didn't like it. To...have a say in his future that didn't involve some form of servitude.

Harry sighed, rolling his glass between his hands. It was stupid to think that a boy of Draco's status would be impressed by his job but still...

Even now he could feel the blonde's gazing burning into the side of his face as if he were staring right through him into his very soul for answers. Harry sighed again, though this time for a different reason.

He could still feel himself hard and pulsing in his jeans, not yet brave enough to excuse himself to the 

bathroom nor to shift and try to adjust. With Draco's eyes on him, he could hardly dare himself to breathe much less move lest the blonde lean forward and see the hard-on he was sporting.

But, there was nothing to be done about it -- yet, anyway. Harry licked his lips, braving a glance to his companion.

Draco was staring back at him, eyes unreadable though his mouth was turned into a smile. "Ah, so then, I can come here any time I want and get free drinks then?" The blonde asked seconds later, his tongue flicking out to moisten his bottom lip even as his eyes seemed to darken.

Harry felt his throat and pants tighten in tandem. All thoughts of worrying about the other boy's opinion dimming momentarily as he stared mesmerized at the other boy's lips. Unthinkingly, Harry found himself licking his own lips, oblivious to the sharp intake of breath from the blonde.

All he wanted to do was lean forward and brush his own lips against the boy's. Not just for a moment either. No, a brief kiss wasn't what his mind was suddenly flashing on: his body wound tightly around Draco's own as he devoured those pretty pink lips.

Harry flushed, eyes flickering up to met the swirling gray of the blondes. A shiver raced down his spine. If he didnt know better, the blonde looked ready to devour him.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," his voice cracked, "something like that."

Harry could feel his cheeks burning, whether from embarrassment or his own burning need to just reach down and squeeze himself, just once, just to take the edge off...

Harry's cheeks flamed in mortification, suddenly realizing that one of his hands was moving to do just that. Quickly, he averted his gaze, staring resolutely at the worn wood on the bar top as he dropped his hand back on to the bar. Sweet Merlin, one more second and he would have been touching himself. In front of Draco, no less.

"I --" Harry began but just as quickly fell silent. He wasn't sure what to say. Not with his mind so completely filled with images of withering bodies, smooth creamy skin laid out to be touched, tasted; marked as his own. Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat.

"I don't usually give out free drinks, as a rule," He finally began again, watching for a damning second as the blonde blinked, darkened eyes swirling from burning heat to confusion and the back again. He cleared his throat once again before continued, "But with you, I'll make an exception."

A slow, pleased smile spread across the blonde's features, grey eyes sparkling. "I'm the exception to the rule then, eh?" He queried softly, one delicate eyebrow lifting. "Youd let me," the blonde swayed forward a moment before seeming to catch himself before he completely invaded Harrys personal 

space, "have what I wanted, wouldn't you?"

Harry swallowed. Sweet Merlin.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**: Thank you to everyone who well wished my family and to those of you who gave me some lovely reviews. Both are very much appreciated and cherished. :) Also, as a reminder, if for whatever reason you can't reach my stories here (or just don't want to) then you can find them at insane journal, username: thequietdawn

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**Chapter 11**

Fame and fortune, glitz and glamour, that's what Malfoy's lived for; what their name represented to so many. People, families, entire classes of people thrived to be like them. They were the epitome of all things luscious and prestigious. They were **Malfoys**; a power to be reckoned with. In every sense.

Lucius Malfoy Sr. proved that, as that he was thoroughly immersed in fame and fortune, even before he'd married Narcissa. As a high profile businessmen who harbored dreams of expansion, corporate takeovers and, if Draco knew his father at all, the fantasies of ruling the known universe -- he was who so many ambitious, young aspiring businessmen and women looked up to. Nothing stood in his way; no challenge lay unmet. Lucius Malfoy's motto was simple: "Nothing is improbable. The impossible just takes longer."

It was a motto that Draco, himself, had adapted to his life in varying degrees. Much like his father, he had a penchant for business; some deep seeded knowledge of how the corporate world worked. But, unlike his father who was willing to use his power, his money and his persuasion to get what he wanted. Draco used his body, his looks and his sensuality.

Just like his mother had before she'd met his father. Or so he'd heard rumored but never confirmed. If his father had been, and still was, known for the impossible, Narcissa Malfoy had been known for being the most improbable catch of the time.

And so, that was how Lucius Malfoy met his wife. Through the improbable.

Narcissa Malfoy, then Black, from the prestigious and most honorable house of Black, whose glitz and glamour were world renown, was untouchable. Unattainable. Unbelievably beautiful and most importantly, beyond the reach of even the most ambitious businessmen. Even if said businessman was Lucius Malfoy, who'd -- when he had first met her -- had just begun to make a name for himself in the corporate world.

Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that alone had been enough to seal his mother's fate.

Narcissa's unattainable status had started the fires burning and Lucius had known: Narcissa Black was going to be his. His for the taking, his for the keeping and his to make his wife. She was going to be his and his alone.

So, with a single-mindedness that was mirrored in his son, he had done what other colleagues and competition had sworn was a waste of valuable time and could never be done. He'd courted Narcissa Black; he'd plotted, schemed and made, what he considered, worthy sacrifices for the woman he knew was going to be his. He'd even gone so far as to concoct a brilliant plan by using one of his best friends and confidants, Severus Snape, as bait to entice the young woman to notice him.

He had done this until, and with the brief assurance from his friend, he _knew_ that Narcissa wanted him as desperately and thoroughly as he wanted her. That she knew that Lucius Malfoy was the only one who was able to give her exactly what she needed.

Then, he disappeared from her life.

Not for long, mind you, nor for any purpose other than to achieve his goal but it was necessary albeit risky move. But for a man known for his almost psychic abilities in business and the chancy maneuvers he took to overthrow the competition -- it was the most plainly obvious thing to do. You built the competition up, you made them want what you had and then you took it all away.

Just like that. And, it worked. It always worked.

After all, though it had taken longer than Lucius would have wanted , Narcissa Black had done exactly what he'd expected her to do: she'd come to him. She'd come to him and he'd made sure she didn't leave. Not until he'd made her his wife, that is.

In a matter of two months since his sudden disappearance from the woman's life, they were engaged to be married and less than a year later, they were. Narcissa Black had turned out to be the best chance he'd ever taken with his life.

She made him the perfect wife. Painfully beautiful, sharp witted and eagle eyed, the woman had helped advance his career as well as their fortune in less than a fortnight. It hadn't taken long before Narcissa became pregnant.

Their first and only child, Draco, had been born less than a year later and secured Lucius biggest worry: who would be his rightful heir and successor to the Malfoy family fortune as well as a small but overwhelmingly impressive dowry from the Black's that was handed down to every daughter in the family. Draco's position in life had been permanently locked into place before he'd taken his first breath in the world.

Moreover, with being born into such a family, the fame and fortune, the glitz and glamour clung to him like a second skin. It was, as many had found, a lethal but highly intoxicating combination. Beauty _and_ brains. Fortune _and _fame. Glitz _and_ glamour.

He could have whatever he wanted. And right this moment, all he wanted was a boy with flashing green eyes and golden skin.

'_Merlin, what I wouldn't give to _touch_ him right now.' _He thought, letting his eyes flow over the other boy's features; drinking in the beauty that was making a clenching warmth spread in the pit of his stomach. _'Or have him touch me. He looks so fucking good right now.'_

No truer statement had ever been thought by Draco. Harry did look good. His face was flushed, his eyes were a dark forest green and his pink lips were slightly open where he sucked in tiny gasps of air. It made Draco want to shove him against the bar top and devour him.

But he wasn't going to push it. Not yet at least. As it was, he was already toeing the line by invading some of Harry's personal space. Barely a thighs width apart, if either Harry or himself shifted on their stools, their legs would be pressed flush against one another.

It was a temptation that Draco could scarcely resist. _'Control, Draco. Get some fucking control.' _He growled to himself. The famous Malfoy control was, however, already hanging by a ever weakening thread and Draco had to clutch onto the napkin still clasped between his fingers to keep from shifting over or reaching out to touch the boy.

But then, Harry was licking his lips, a small shy smile forming as he looked down at the drink. Blunt fingers began fiddling with the edge of the glass, caressing the delicate surface with long gentle touches.

Draco fought back a choice curse, wishing again for his famous control. What he wouldn't give right now to take that glass's place. To feel those work roughened fingers smooth over his skin, rub against his thighs, wrap around his cock.

"So, would you, Harry? Give me what I wanted?" Draco forced himself to ask, again, barely caring that his voice was deep and husky with need.

A bashful flicker of green eyes that widened when they took in Draco's hungry appearance and Harry's smile grew minutely. "Depends on what you wanted…Draco."

'_I want you, Harry. Only you.' _Draco groaned mentally, forgetting all about anything remotely concerning control as he shifted on his stool, feeling the electrifying brush of Harry's denim clad leg against his khakis. A delicious heat radiated from the material, seeping into Draco's skin and almost driving him mad with need.

He shifted again, feeling a subtle return of pressure as the other boy did his shifting of his own, turning his head to stare at Draco. The boy's lips were still lifted into a tiny smile of moments ago but something was…different. Something that made the blonde's pulse speed and stomach clench.

Draco leaned forward, feeling mesmerized as he realized Harry was doing the same. His eyes drifted to the boy's lips. They were pink and rosy, reminding him of cherry lip balm and cotton candy. The only thought, the only word that ran through his mind then was 'devour'.

"Harry…" Draco murmured, feeling the boy's body shift even more and warm breath caress his face. He licked his lips, smiling when he heard the soft groan that emanated from deep within the boy's throat. Draco tore his gaze up until they were staring into the swirling depths of a deep green sea. "Harry…"

A second more and their lips would be touching. Their mouths would be consuming the others and Draco would finally get to feast on that sweet, sweet mouth.

"Draco…" Harry murmured huskily, eyes fluttering shut. Draco groaned, letting his own eyes close as the first barely there contact of those perfect lips…

'_Oh thank fucking God, I'm about to kiss my--' _

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, HOW COULD YOU!"


End file.
